Dick the Delivery Man Pt. 02

*Not much in the way of a sex scene in this one, sorry.*

Greg stretched his arms and legs, cramped from another long drive in his less-than-spacious van. His eyes squinted as he chanced to look at the beaming sun above.

("Nice day.") Greg smiled to himself, turning his eyes to the house on 309 Irving Road. Inside was Violet Adams, a frequent face on his deliveries.

Recently he had become familiar with the rest of her, too. That familiarity had revealed to him her most intimate of secrets; the girthy phallus that was tucked away beneath her shapely legs.

Greg hadn't seen her since the night that they had shared a few weeks ago, but they had exchanged numbers, keeping the connection alive with their late night texts. Their words were conservative and polite, sharing stories like they had before. The friendly but passionless exchanges worried Greg somewhat, as the words they shared lacked the intimacy that he had experienced before.

Earlier that day his phone had buzzed while he was having his lunch break. Rushing to check for a text, he almost tripped over the old textbooks that littered his room. Turning the screen on, instead of a text from Adams, was a delivery notice from his work. Initially disappointed, his eyes lit up when he saw that it was a delivery to 309 Irving Road. Greg had jumped at the chance to see her again, diving into his car without even changing into his uniform, driving the route at breakneck pace dressed casually in a pair of khaki shorts and a green shirt. On the way he called his boss, a plan already brewing in his mind.

The door opening pulled him from his memories as a flash of red hair appeared, looking all around.

"Violet. How are you?" Violet turned to face the voice, mouth instantly splitting into a wide grin. She emerged from the doorway, wearing her usual baggy sweatpants and a more form-fitting t-shirt than she had ever worn previously. The new orange shirt hugged her huge E-cup breasts, the tight bra beneath causing her expansive mounds of tit-flesh to bubble out visibly from the straps.

"Greg! You've got my package, right?" She anxiously scanned his form for the nondescript box he so often carried.

"Of course, I wouldn't forget." Greg held out the brown box to her, smirking slightly at the knowledge of it's contents.

Grabbing the package, she tucked it under her shoulders hurriedly. "You see, I wasn't sure, you're not really dressed for the occasion." She teased him, gesturing at his attire.

"Hmm? Oh! I must have forgot to change in my rush."

Violet's grin returned, taking on a playful quality. "Oh? Rushing out here just to see me?" Her teasing continued.

"I'm just that dedicated to my job, Miss Adams."

"Truly, there must be no cause nobler than that of the noble delivery man. I am in awe." Violet leaned into the delivery man, wrapping her arms around him. "I missed you."

Greg returned the embrace. "So did I." The pair released each other, both smiling easily.

Greg dug through his pockets, fishing for his car keys. "Hey Violet, since we haven't spoken in awhile, I was wondering if you wanted to go sit down for a meal? It's pretty nice out, and there's a restaurant nearby." Violet frowned for a moment, brow furrowing with an unspoken complaint. Greg waited for her response, growing less confident by the second. "I mean, we don't have to if you don't want-"

"I'd love to." Violet said with finality. "Let me just put this away first. I'll be out in just a second." The package under her arm was carried away, out of Greg's sight.

Greg sat on her porch, listening to the bird's chirping. She had been away for almost 10 minutes now. He picked up a few rocks near him, tossing one of them at one of the ancient trees that surrounded Violet's large home. ("I really ought to ask her about this house.") Another rock rapped against the tree, a small chunk of bark flying away with the much stronger impact. ("Wait, what did she say she did for a living?") Greg racked his brain for the answer. She had told him that she was an author, though she declined to show him her work. ("Didn't know authors made that kind of money. Must be pretty famous.") Greg twirled the rock in his hand, deep in thought. He suddenly remembered that she had once said she was a graphic designer. Again, no examples. ("It's not impossible to have two jobs. She probably doesn't go out much, she has the free time.") Greg concluded. However, another moment popped into his head. ("Freelance coding, too.") Greg glanced back to her house, eyes poring over it's immaculate construction. ("She never seemed much interested in computers to me.") He frowned. The third rock he had collected had too found itself hurtling at the tree, hitting the same spot as before. Greg stood, wiping the dirt from his hands, He again studied the house, wondering what she might be hiding from him. Whatever it was, Greg struggled to imagine a greater secret to keep than the mountain between her thighs.

Greg waited for a few more minutes more before knocking. A cry of surprise could barely be heard behind the door, quickly followed by her voice.

"I'll be out in a minute! Hold on!" Several thumps followed from the second floor, concluding with the creaking of her stairs. Violet flung open the door, wearing the same clothes as before. Her face was beet red, sweat rolling down her cheeks. "Sorry, It's hot in there."

"Right. It's on Dawson Road, probably a 15 minute drive. There's a little cluster of buildings that I always pass. One of them is an Italian restaurant called 'Graces'. Have you ever been there?"

"I've been on Dawson. Never been to 'Graces', though." Violet responded, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her jacket.

Violet and Greg piled into the van, where Greg had thoughtfully turned on the air conditioner. Violet shifted uncomfortably, clearly unused to such small spaces. As the van turned off of her driveway, Greg began his line of questioning, masquerading it as a small talk.

"Your house is pretty nice, Vi. You must make a lot of money from your writing."

Violet laughed. "Yeah, It's enough."

"More than enough." Greg balked. "You have the biggest house on the road."

"Oh, It's not that big."

"There's no need to be modest about it. You work some 4 jobs, don't you? Coding, writing, graphic design, painting," Greg rattled off the jobs she had supposedly worked, tacking on one of his own creation as a test. "You've earned a house like that, really. It must be awful hard work."

Violet laughed again, though this time it was nervous. "I'm a woman of many talents, I guess."

"Talented is an understatement." Greg stared ahead, eyes never leaving the road as he continued to grill her. "It's a shame you never showed me any of your paintings. I'd have loved to see them."

Violet visibly shrank in the passenger seat. "Maybe you will, someday." She laughed again, unable to keep the anxiety from creeping into her voice. She had fallen for the bait, all but convincing Greg that her many jobs were a ruse.

"It's funny, I never would have pegged you for a coder, either. I tried to start once, you know. Didn't get anywhere profitable with it, of course. What language do you program in?"

Violet's face went pale as he turned off of Irving and onto Alamo Road. "I'm sorry? What did you say?"

"I asked what language you coded in. Probably g++ or snake, right?"

Relieved she had been given an out, she responded quickly with "Oh uh, of course. I use Snake." She fiddled with her hair to calm herself. "I'm not like a professional coder or anything." She added, trying to downplay her knowledge. Greg offered only a grunt in response. Having caught the lie, he casually flicked his blinker, pulling over in front of one of the endless empty houses. As the van lurched to a stop, Violet looked to Greg with confusion.

"Snake isn't a real programming language," Violet's face dropped, realizing she had been tricked. "and neither is g++. What do you really do for a living Violet?"

Violet stared down at her dirty white sneakers, unwilling to let him see her embarrassment.

"Well, I wasn't lying about being a writer." She explained. "But it's more of a hobby than anything else. It wouldn't pay any bills."

"And what does pay your bills?" Greg's eyes drilled into hers as she lifted her head to face his.

"It's a long story, and it has to do with my dick."

Greg flicked his eyes between Violet and the road ahead of them. "You're not a- er-" Greg stopped, unsure how his next words would be most politely put. "-Prostitute?"

Violet's mouth opened with offence and alarm. "No!" She shook her head in annoyance, and explained further. "Nothing like that. When my mother was pregnant, she was taking pills to deal with morning sickness. When she went in for an ultrasound, they saw that I had developed this third leg." She gestured to her crotch unhelpfully, the bulge as invisible as ever. "The pharmaceutical company responsible tried to sweep it under the rug, but my mother took them to court, and won. They ended up giving her 10 million dollars, and had to pay for everything related to my condition, including those condoms you deliver, and most of my bills. With the millions she bought me the secluded house, and payed for my private education, so I wouldn't get bullied or killed in public school. I'm not really sure where the rest went."

Greg scratched his elbow, lost in his thoughts. "That company was Grayson, right?"

Violet nodded, shocked. "How did you know?" Violet inquired, impressed with his knowledge.

"My father was a lawyer before he retired." He explained. "He tried to encourage me to follow in his footsteps, but I was too busy drinking to actually study at university." Greg recounted, bitterly. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I didn't want you to think that I was some kind of weird chemical mutant. I mean, I am, but you might have thought my skin was toxic, or-"

"No no, I get it." He clapped her on the back, rubbing her shoulder affectionately. He flicked his blinker in the other direction before the van shuddered into motion. "I'm just glad we're being honest, now. It doesn't bother me in the slightest. What does your mother do now?"

"Oh, just an office job. Nothing special."

"Nothing wrong with an office job. Better than flipping burgers. How did your father deal with all that? The mutation, I mean."

"I never even knew him." Her voice was devoid of any emotions. "He left my mother after the ultrasound. I don't really blame him. He didn't sign up for raising a science experiment."

"Well that's pretty awful of him," Greg frowned, briefly offering a disapproving glance at the last remark. "and you're not a science experiment. Cut that out."

Violet said nothing in response, looking out the window at the passing houses. Greg mentally noted her father as a sore spot to avoid bringing him up again.

They sat in silence for awhile as the van continued down the roads. People became a more frequent sight as they neared the their more urban destination. Greg tried to restart the conversation, still curious about the life this woman had led.

"You mentioned that they pay for things relating to your condition." Greg politely waved at a man who was jaywalking across the street in front of him, forcing him to slow the van. "Were there other effects or anything?"

She nodded. "A few. My lungs are kind of weak. The doctors say I'm probably going to lose my eyesight earlier than most people. Nothing serious."

"That's not too bad, all things considered." The van pulled to a stop at an intersection. In the distance, 'Graces' could be seen, patrons standing outside and chatting as they waited to get inside. Pleased, Greg turned to face his girlfriend as they waited for the traffic lights to change.

Violet nodded again. "The cock is really the biggest issue. I have to cum at least once every week or I get so backed up that I can't even think when I get horny."

"Once a week?" Greg chuckled lightly. "That's not so bad."

Violet shook her head gloomily. "Maybe for you. Masturbating isn't nearly as laissez-faire for me. Those condoms can get pretty damn full." Greg felt his dick twitch at her blatant sex talk. Violet continued, oblivious to her effect on him. "Not to stroke your ego or anything, but I usually don't cum nearly as fast I did when we had sex."

"You'd best keep me around then." Greg grinned at her, trying to dispel her dour mood. A smirk emerged on her face, encouraging his efforts. "How long does it usually take?" Greg asked, more interested in their conversation than the traffic light above changing to green.

"2 hours, usually bordering on 3. It's so exhausting that I usually just pass out afterwards. It really messes with my sleep schedule, another reason I can't hold a real job."

Greg's smile fell from his face, pursing his lips into a serious expression. "You know, having a giant dick sounds less and less appealing as you go on." He shifted his erection, a little ashamed at having derived pleasure from the source of her anguish. "Have you ever thought of getting it- you know, removed? If it's that big of a deal?"

"Never seriously, no. It's a part of me, no matter how annoying it can be." She seemed to notice her miserable words effects on the man, and quickly added "It's not all bad though, I promise! Jerking off feels pretty nice, once you get into it. And hey," Her entire demeanor changed, almost at once. Violet's shoulders buckled inward, emphasizing her bosom, large E-cups pushing harder against her orange shirt. She leaned over to him, placing her lips at ear-height, her voice becoming a sultry whisper. "you seemed to like it last time."

Greg shivered and quickly straightened his back, pulling the seat's lever in an attempt to distract her from his obvious lust. He glanced up at the light, which had turned red once more. "This light is taking an awful long time, huh?" He laughed nervously.

"It is, isn't it?" She briefly spun to face the light, more interested in teasing Greg. Her red hair flipped back, and her eyes settled on the small outcrop in Greg's khaki's. She licked her lips wolfishly, looking up at his rapidly reddening face. "Another delivery?"

Greg swallowed hard as he watched her delicate hands playfully approach his thighs. "Violet! We're at an intersection." His eyes scan their environment, looking for possible witnesses. "What if someone sees you doing this?"

"That's why it's so fun! Haven't you ever wanted to do something like this in public?" Her fingers stroked against his muscular thighs, sending pleasurable sensations to his rapidly inflating penis.

"Not particularly, no!" He lied, his dick betraying his position. "And if even I did, I wouldn't. It's illegal."

Violet's eyes never left his as she playfully flicked the zipper of his shorts with her right hand's thumb. "But it feels so good, doesn't it? Surely the law can stand to let us have a little fun, here and there?" Her left began to slide up his legs, moving until it was directly below her right, cupping his crotch from beneath.

Greg watched her seductive ministrations with disbelief, although making no move to stop her. She was acting very strange. It was a side of her that he had not seen before, not even when they had actually had sex a few weeks ago.

("Wait.")

Greg's mind began to race. They had had sex just over 3 weeks ago. She had not ordered a condom since then. She had 1 condom left over from his last delivery, which she would have used a week later, putting the counter at 2 weeks ago. ("She might have a stockpile of them, but...")

"Violet," Greg began, still watching her fiddle around with his crotch. "When was the last time you came?"

Violet furrowed her brow and frowned, as though pained at the idea of recollection. Her fingers continued unabated. "Last Tuesday, I think?"

It was Friday. She hadn't cum for almost 10 days, well over her estimated 7 day limit.

Suddenly realizing what he was getting at, her mind cleared, and she stopped. "Oh my god," She buried her head in her once-lewd hands, returning quickly to the passenger side of the vehicle. "I'm so sorry, Greg. I didn't mean for this to happen. I meant to order the condoms earlier, but I just kept putting it off."

Greg rubbed her shoulder with concern. "Don't worry about it. I'll just take you back to your house. We can do this another day."

Violet shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't want to be a high maintenance girlfriend, Greg. I know that might sound silly, all things considered." She sniffed loudly, trying in vain to quell her tears. "I already decided I was going, I knew the risk. We're already almost there. I'm not going to have my stupid dick ruin this for you. That won't happen again, I promise."

Greg remained unconvinced. "There's really no shame in this Violet. I'll just swing by next week, it's no trouble, really."

"No, I said I was going out." She finally managed to get a hold on her tears, her voice losing it's warble. "I don't make up my mind lightly." Through her tears she was resolute, looking him in the eye defiantly, as if daring him to refuse her. "If you're okay with it, that is." She reflexively softened the blow, not quite willing to commit to the warpath.

Greg was torn between the right choice, and the one he desperately wanted to make. He didn't believe her, and knew she wasn't really up for the date. She might even end up embarrassing herself in public, or worse revealing her secret.

But he might not see her again for weeks, his deliveries kept him busy every night. He had called in sick on the drive to Irving, telling his boss that he'd be finishing early tonight. And goodwill with Greg's boss was hard to come by, too. He was a military man, served in Afghanistan. He had a penchant for order, and was unlikely to let Greg off with this last minute affair again. He was already on his shit-list ever since he chose Irving Road. To Greg, it was a miracle that he let him off at all. Today might be his last chance in a long time.

("It's a shame to waste miracles, right?") Greg tried to rationalize, the sunken-cost weighing down on his psyche.

That, and the far less rational reason of his dick being rock hard.

Greg bit his lip, racking his brain for any excuses he could find to let the date continue. Finally, he made his decision. "If you think you can manage it, I trust you." Instantly regretting the white lie, Greg felt his stomach squirm at the manipulative language. He felt like scum of the earth. One of the major reasons for his choice, his erection, began to shrink, as though distancing itself from a controversial statement.

Violet smiled appreciatively. "Well, glad that's settled." She ducked her head and leaned forward, looking at the light that hung above them. The light had turned red for the third time, each time almost comically escaping their notice. "This light is taking an awful long time, huh?" She echoed Greg, seemingly having never even heard him say the same a minute prior.

Greg nodded sadly, still upset about his lack of willpower. "An eternity."

*Sorry for no real sex scene, but this one would end up being 6k if I didn't cut it short. I have the basic gist of the next part lined up already.*

**Please let me know how I could improve these stories in the future! Besides adding more sex, I mean.**